Admittance
by GenesisDragonProject
Summary: To summarize a list of things J. Daniel Atlas wouldn't admit, Henley Reeves was spectacular, period.


_**Consider it disowned and disclaimed.**_

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Henley was a spectacular dancer, Daniel had to admit. To summarize a list of things he wouldn't admit, Henley was spectacular, period.

As he watched her sway her hips – _those hips_ – to the pounding music that he never quite developed a taste for despite their stint on the Las Vegas strip, Daniel contemplated on where he would be in his life without one Henley Reeves.

He would still be devastatingly handsome, that's for sure. Henley had no part or credit in that matter. He would still be the crème de la crème of the magic circle. That happened before her and continued to happen after her. He would still probably be taking wonderstruck women into his bed while riding on the highs of his performances. That happened during Henley. It had _been _Henley once until she realized that perhaps J. Daniel Atlas wasn't good enough for her.

Another thing he wouldn't admit to.

And she left. The smartest of all the decisions she'd made up until then. And letting her go was probably the most ill-self-advised on one J. Daniel Atlas' side.

But she came back. (Not the true retelling of events as everyone would know but he still liked to tell himself that.) They met again and he was thrown back into the realization that even after all that time he still wasn't good enough for her. He was still the same fast-talking, arrogant, control freak jerk that she left, escaped from. And she wasn't. The same, he meant. She was better than he could have thought her to be. Better than even her website portrayed her. Not that he'd seen it or anything.

"Hey!" The deck of card he was incessantly shuffling and re-shuffling – it wasn't so much a nervous habit as just a habit, he had to keep his hands nimble one way or another – was yanked out of his hands as he was broken from his reverie by the loud shout above the pounding din. He looked up to see Henley perched on the table of the booth he was sitting in, stripping the cards back and forth in her hands. Simply the wording of that thought almost pulled him into a daze of thoughts of stripping _something else _ and it occurred to him that he should probably get a hard drink down his throat soon if he wanted a valid excuse for thinking what he'd been thinking for the past couple of minutes.

"Hey!" She exclaimed again, this time snapping her fingers in front of his face repeatedly. He glared up at her and she grinned, she knew he hated it when she did that. "Now that I have your attention…" she trailed off, plucking a card from the deck and shoving it in his face. "Is this your card?" She cocked a perfectly manicured eyebrow at him as he leaned back in his seat to get a better look at the card and saw that it was blank.

"No, it isn't." He deadpanned, shooting her the same condescendingly raised brow. "And I didn't pick a card in the first place so the premise for that was totally unfounded and uncalled for and give me back my cards." He reached for the deck in her hands and she hopped out of his reach. Standing, she hopped onto the sofa seat across from him and carefully balanced herself on the headrest as she inspected the card she had shown him. He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. She could be such a child.

"Really? I think this card suits you perfectly right now. You didn't have to choose if I already which it was. After all, wasn't it you who told me never to ask stupid questions?" She laughed. At his expense, he knew.

"I can tell you're trying to imply something in that statement but I'm pretty sure it's fairly inconsequential." He said, scanning the floor of the club for a waitress that could possibly bring him something that started with a J. and also had Daniel in its name.

"It's a fairly simple implication, you know. I was entirely sure that the great J. Daniel Atlas could figure it out. Especially when I believe he isn't even slightly buzzed. But once again, I sorely overestimated you." The shit-eating smirk on her face was only rivalled by the shit-eating glare that he was shooting at her.

"You didn't deny that it was inconsequential, though. It's pretty clear here that the reason you're here is simply the fact that those piss drunk frat boys have stopped wanting to dance with you." He scoffed, pulling another deck of cards from inside his coat.

If she was screwing with his head earlier, she was doing an even better job at it now as she smiled in response to his previous remark. "See," she grinned, waving her hand at him. She laughed again in response to his sharp 'what?' and he wondered not for the first time that night how much she'd had to drink. Henley was notoriously the Horseman with alcohol tolerance to rival a real horse's, though. "That's the Danny Atlas, I know."

"I don't get your meaning." He was quickly getting frustrated and flustered at the same time. Some time in the last five minutes, Henley had slid down from her seat on the headrest and settled in front of him. Her Jimmy Choo clad foot had somehow taken to dragging itself from his ankle to his knee and back again and she wouldn't stop no matter how he shook her off. He had most recently given up trying. Who was he trying to kid?

"Of course you don't." She smiled before dropping her foot and fixing him with a blank stare.

"What's that supposed to be?"

Tossing her long mane of flaming hair back, she propped her elbows up on the table and leaned her chin into her the balls of her palms with a grin. "That was you before I came over here and messed with your head."

"I was a girl before you came over here?" He gave in to her mind games and went with it with an inward sigh. She had a way of reeling him in.

"Very beautiful." She agreed. "Seriously, though, I thought drool was about to spill out of your mouth or something. What was the great Mr. Atlas so preoccupied over that he was sans slightly drunk Malibu Barbie lookalike in the middle of a bar?"

A waitress passed with a tray full of beer tumblers and he grabbed one before he lost his mind. The beer was crap but it was alcohol, nonetheless. "Nothing you need to worry your pretty head over."

The foot was back on its path up his leg but he felt better prepared for it with the alcohol now in his system. "But my pretty head is already worrying over it. I ditched Trevor for this very productive conversation with you so you might as well tell me. Make it more productive so that I'm not tempted to reattach my pretty head to his. Unless you want me to, of course."

There was a heat pooling in the pit of his stomach and he wished it was the crappy beer but knew it wasn't. It was something that made his blood boil more than 5% abv ever could. _Trevor best keep his damn head unattached to yours if he wants to keep it. _ "If I told you, will you stop playing your wannabe-Merritt games? I swear you're spending too much time with that old man." He hoped that sounded in-control enough for her. He decided not to take her bait. Or at least let her know he was.

She shrugged and replied with something that sounded suspiciously like a scoff. "At least Merritt enjoys spending time with me. He actually helped me rig some of my equipment and I only had to ask him once." The sly smile on her lips suddenly took on a different context when her foot went further north and she rested her heel just on top of his knee.

Sheer fury filled him at the thought of Merritt helping her _'rig some of her equipment'_ and her audacity to actually look pleased that she had only to ask once. That dirty old man would have offered if she hadn't asked. The double entendre in her statement wouldn't have escaped anyone even if it had her skills.

He took a hand from around his beer and grasped her ankle underneath the table. The stark difference of her movement warmed body and his beer-chilled hand made her gasp. "You could have asked me."

You could see the composure gather itself behind her eyes and she leaned forward, plucked the beer from his hand and took a long swig. He followed the movement of the glass to her lips and down the long bared column of her throat. "I'd love to remind you that I did. Quite a number of times, really. Jack said yes after I asked you the fifth time." She replaced the beer in his hand and settled back into her seat. He could feel her press her leg into his hand and a slow smile came to his face.

"Now, I know you're just pulling my leg. There's no way I would have missed that happening."

She tittered. "Au contraire, you're the one pulling my leg." She emphasized this by attempting to pull her leg back, his hand tightening and holding it still. "But fine, I asked twice, thrice at the most. You still didn't say yes."

For once in a very long time, Daniel wasn't sure what to say. Why didn't he say yes? The memory of her asking was vague but it was there. And so was Malibu-Barbie. He immediately regrets his taste in one night stands.

Since she'd left the first time, regret was a constant fixture in his life. An assistant that wasn't her or a woman in his bed that wasn't her. They were all the same. Not her.

Meaningless sex was a hard habit to break but he might as well start now.

Her long manicured nails tapped slowly on the table as she looked at him expectantly for an answer. She probably thought she had finally one-upped him. What she didn't know was that she'd one-upped him the day she left.

A calculating look made its way to Daniel's face. It was the kind of expression you would often see on his face while planning for another theatrical finale or on hers when planning her next greatest escape. He dropped her foot and she looked up at him curiously as he stood and made his way to her side of the booth.

"Walking away, Danny?"

"You wish." He slipped the deck he was holding back into his coat pocket and took the deck she was holding from her and did the same with it. He offered her his hand with a magician's flourish.

"Is this a joke?" She stared at him sceptically.

Danny rolled his eyes. "Take it or leave it. I suggest you take it. It isn't often I try to make it up to you."

"Is _that _what you're doing? Really?" Despite the disbelief still dripping from her voice, she put her hand in his and he smiled, pulling her out of her seat. Contact with her had a way of turning frustration into…a different kind of frustration.

He led her to the dance floor as a slow song conveniently started to play. After he conveniently winked at the DJ. "What's gotten over you?"

"Three mouthfuls of beer." He tried pathetically.

"Try again."

"Ask me to help you rig your equipment or whatever again. I'll say yes this time. Hell, I'm offering." He said, sidling up closer to her. She smiled at the motion and threw her arms around his neck.

"All my equipment's rigged. Jack and Merritt helped out while you were with America's Next Top Model."

"There's always some equipment to be rigged." He winked insinuatingly at her.

She scoffed. "You never showed interest in it before."

"Let's put the past behind us. Give me another chance." He finally asked, swaying her to the music. While Henley was a spectacular dancer, he was more or less subpar at the sport. But he could sway, at the very least. Another thing that Henley deserved more of.

It was quiet for a while. Henley laid her head on his chest and seemed to really consider it. He relished the sharp smell of her cherry scented shampoo. The silence irked Daniel. Not knowing whether or not she'd agree. He was a control-freak for a reason. And Henley enjoyed wrenching that control from him, often for his own good, sometimes for hers.

When she finally answered, it was with an answer that confused him for a second.

"Tonight." She repeated after seeing the stumped look on his face. "I'll put it behind me tonight. Do something that'll make me put it behind me tomorrow. And the day after."

It finally hit him what she was offering and he smiled, leaned in closer, and breathed her in. He'd make sure it stayed behind her. "Honestly, I don't think I deserve you." That was more honesty than he'd ever allowed her to hear from him and he thought it was a pretty good way to go about what she was asking for. He was right, of course.

"You know what you're doing." She closed more of the space in between them. "You know what else would work?"

"What?" He whispered, feeling as if he would ruin the moment if he said anything else.

"Let me decide what I deserve." With that, she closed the millimetre between them and gave him the most mindblowing kiss of his life so far.

Tonight she decided on him and tomorrow he would try and make her repeat that decision. He'd try until she decided on it permanently. No more Tristan or Travis or whoever.

J. Daniel Atlas was still the same fast-talking, arrogant, control freak jerk that she left. At the same time, he was the farthest thing from it. With Henley, he was more human. He felt more him than he ever did. He still hadn't quite decided what difference she'd made in his life. But he knew it was a big one. And he knew he couldn't let her go. Not anymore.

To summarize a list of things he wouldn't admit, Henley Reeves was spectacular. And J. Daniel Atlas couldn't and wouldn't live without her.

Maybe one day he'd tell her so. Or maybe not.

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_**Tell me if you liked it. Hope you did!**_


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